Pressures on the Mound

Since there were no political journalists present tonight and no sportswriters interested in this particular story, I will reprise my early-in-life role as a reporter and duly retell the events of the evening.

It was a balmy night in the mountains as the Asheville Tourists baseball team took on the Hickory Crawdads in the final game of the season. The several thousand fans were there for the game, hot dogs and cold drinks, and the post game fireworks. But for three purportedly seasoned political campaigners the night was all about strikes.

The local Republicans had organized a gathering at the game and invited the three GOP gubernatorial candidates to throw out the first pitch or should I say pitches. So there I was sporting a new Tourist cap and in my regular running shoes (I changed in the truck); along with Fred who switched from cowboy boots to running shoes before the main event (good staff work); and Bill in high dollar loafers (not so good staff work) with a large family entourage.

It turns out that we weren't the only "first pitchers" as four other local citizens were also scheduled to do the honors. I asked all of them if they were running for governor too, but no takers and the group's only female quickly replied that "she didn't do politics". So as we waited for the impending pitch-off to begin, Fred, Bill and I warmed up down the foul line "soft tossing" a baseball to each other and keeping a wary eye lest one of us decide to test the toughness of an opponents bare palms (no gloves).

Finally the moment came and our group, escorted by the Tourists' promo man, took us to home plate where we met a very tall Latino player introduced to us as a pitcher who would serve as our honorary catcher. If I could read bewildered minds in Spanish I can imagine he was thinking: "What the ****** am doing having to try and catch this crowd?" Anyway we then proceeded to the mound whereupon I was introduced as the first candidate and "victim" to try and make an athletic move from the rubber by throwing a brand new slick white baseball into what appeared to be a very small mitt some 100 yards away. (It just looked that far.)

Now I love baseball and have continued playing slow pitch softball right on up to this year. But now with several thousand people and my two primary opponents watching I'll admit to being nervous. In the YouTube world we live in I could just see me planting my pitch in the dirt about twenty feet in front of the catcher for all the world to laugh at.

But taking a deep breath and focusing on my target, I nailed a strike right down the middle with good form and good pace (didn't catch the radar gun result - but it was smokin' good). The crowd reacted audibly and with applause as if to say, "I can't believe that little old guy did that." Now it was time for Fred to follow and I know he was feeling a little more pressure but he's a competitor and put a strike, ok, maybe a ball, depending on the umpire, with decent pace into the catcher's glove. Bill, admit it, you were shakin' baby after seeing two guys 15 years your senior perform like that. But to Bill's credit, he found the catcher - wide and outside and not much mustard on it - but I know he just wanted to get it there and he did. (Had I been in his shoes believe me that would have been my goal).

So the GOP field acquitted themselves well and we're prepared to take on Bev and Richard and maybe Mike Munger the libertarian. Play ball!!!!!!!